


A Thanksgiving for Two

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [231]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5235143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Quinn are thankful to be together on a snowy Thanksgiving afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thanksgiving for Two

**Author's Note:**

> References:  
> [Adrift](http://archiveofourown.org/works/909757) by [splix](http://archiveofourown.org/users/splix/pseuds/Splix_Archive)  
> [Stranded](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4359485)  
> [Taconic State Parkway](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taconic_State_Parkway)  
> [A charm of goldfinches](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:A_charm_of_goldfinches_-_geograph.org.uk_-_1608735.jpg)
> 
> Thanksgivings we've celebrated with our lads:  
> [Thanksgiving Kisses](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1798084)  
> [A Paduan Thanksgiving](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1907886)  
> [The Holiday Table](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4140567)  
> [A Place at the Table](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4209198)  
> [Thanksgiving Reverie](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4397039)  
> [Thanksgiving is Love](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4397117)  
> [Stuffing for Breakfast](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2756795)
> 
> To Carol

Click. Clickity. Click.

It sounded like some sort of Jedi Morse Code -- or R2-D2 chiding Qui-Gon -- when Ian tapped on the dashboard of the Audi Gallia while he waited for the Mastersons to pick up the phone. Quinn and he were stranded on the Taconic State Parkway on a snowy Thanksgiving afternoon, but they were expected at Ginny and John's apartment any minute now.

His father-in-law finally answered the phone with a distracted "Hello." Ian could hear the sounds of a party going on in the background and wished that he and Quinn had arrived for the feast before the snow started.

"Hello, John. Happy Thanksgiving! Is everyone else already there?" Ian said.

"Yes, everybody but you and Quinn is here for the celebration," John answered. "Will you be over soon?"

Ian sighed. "We're fine, but it looks like we're stuck behind a ten-car pile-up on the Taconic, so there's no telling when we'll be able to make it."

"Don't worry, son," John said sympathetically. "We'll have plenty of food left, no matter when you get here."

"Thanks, John. Can't wait to be there with you all," said Ian.

John said, "Happy Thanksgiving! I'd like to say that to Quinn also, if you'll put him on."

"He'll call you back as soon as he can," Ian answered. "He's outside, making sure everyone's okay, and I'm going to go help him, as soon as I ring off."

"Okay, then. Keep warm, and we hope to see you soon. Goodbye," John said.

"Goodbye, John. Give our love to the family. Please leave some stuffing for us, okay?" Ian joked, knowing that John liked his quirky sense of humor almost as much as his son did.

When he rang off, Ian put his cell phone back in his pocket, got his jacket from the back seat, and put on his blue scarf and gloves. He also put on a hat with a flap covering his neck and ears, glad that he'd let his common sense trump his sense of style.

The temperature was 28 degrees Fahrenheit outdoors, but the wind chill made it feel like it was at least ten degrees colder, and there was no telling how long he'd be out there. Pulling the hood of his chocolate-brown coat up, he opened the door. He was immediately hit by a blast of wind. Pulling up his scarf to protect his face, Ian looked up and down the highway for Quinn.

Snow swirled around Ian, but he could see Quinn's forest-green jacket a few yards in front of him. Quinn was looking through a car window and giving a thumbs-up sign. As Ian watched in admiration, he saw Quinn using his formidable communication skills. Apparently, he had perfected a system of sign language -- using the 'okay' O with two fingers, as well as the thumb signals for up and down, along with nods and head shakes -- so he could communicate with the motorists without making them open their car doors, and letting valuable heat escape into the icy air.

Glad that he'd put on his Williamsburg boots today, Ian went off to do the same and started walking in the other direction, to see if anybody needed help in the cars behind the Audi. When they had finished checking on the folks around them, they met back at the Gallia, sliding into the front seat, shivering and apple-cheeked.

Snowflakes were melting on their jackets, prompting Quinn to remember the miniature folding umbrella they usually carried in the car with them, just in case of heavy weather. He rummaged around in the glove compartment, without success, except for a packet of stale Fig Newtons they'd thrown in one forgotten day, to be prepared if they needed something to eat.

Meanwhile, Ian checked inside the arm rest, under a pile of classical and alt rock CDs. Sure enough, the umbrella was right there, still snapped into its original case. It would come in handy if they had to venture out again for an extended period of time. The cheery blue-green pattern was not only decorative, but it would be easily seen against the snow-white background.

"Let's get you warm, laddie mine," Quinn said, putting his long arms to good use and snagging a brown cotton blanket from the back seat to spread over both of them. He felt better already. Then he hugged Ian close to him, and a feeling of true coziness kicked in.

"Mmmmm. I feel warmer now," Ian purred, snuggling into Quinn as much as he could, despite the stick shift and arm rest between them.

"Amazing the heat we can produce together, innit, Ian?" Quinn chuckled as he cuddled his husband a bit tighter.

Even through his haze of contentment, Ian remembered his responsibilities. "Everyone's all right in back of us. Is everybody okay in front?" he asked.

Quinn smiled at him, appreciating Ian's Jedi-like sense of duty. "Yes, thank goodness. They all have their winter coats on and seem in high spirits. The pile-up just caused some fender-benders. No one needs medical care."

"Oh, that's a relief," Ian said, and relaxed even further into his herven.

"We're very lucky," said Quinn. He patted the little four-leaf clover Ian had given to him for their tenth anniversary. It was on his key chain in his pocket, just as the little shamrock was in the pocket of Ian's jeans.

Ian nodded. "It's a good thing trucks are not allowed on the parkway, or we'd be in an even bigger mess now."

"Too true, Ian." Quinn wiped a circle of condensation off of the window and looked around them curiously. "At least we're stranded on a beautiful bit of road." They were a couple of miles north of the Bear Mountain exit, where the parkway looked like more of a state park.

A flock of hardy goldfinches flew over the ridge to the south of them, and Quinn's spirits soared with them. He remembered learning in a Biology course in college that a flock was called 'a charm of goldfinches,' and thought that the definition suited them down to their tail feathers. Surrounded by a forest of bare trees covered with a glaze of snow on a gently sloping hillside, Quinn could feel the Living Force sing out clearly, in each cry of a bird, even through the closed and frosted windows.

"We should come back here in the springtime, lad," Quinn said.

"I'd like that." Ian pointed to the left side of the road. "There are hiking trails winding their way through the woodlands scattered all over this region."

Quinn said, "Not to mention a frozen stream." He let go of Ian's shoulders to point it out to him, glistening away from them to the south.

Ian looked at the odometer of the Gallia. "We're only about 25 miles from Alder Run, so it's ideal for a weekend getaway."

"I'm feeling warmer just thinking about spring break," Quinn said.

"So am I," said Ian. "Wonder when the snow plows will get here?"

Quinn looked at his watch. "I called the police about twenty minutes ago, but they may have a problem getting through to us. We also have to figure that there have been other traffic snarls today, what with the snow." He stretched his arms in front of him, getting the kinks out. "I believe they'll be here relatively soon, though, along with the snow crews. When they plow through the blockade, I think we'd better head back home."

Ian groaned. "That reminds me. Your dad wanted to talk with you. They're all waiting for us over there."

"I'd better call back and tell them that we're going straight home after we can drive again," Quinn said. "Don't worry -- they'll understand. They've only been living Upstate for over sixty years now."

Ian chuckled. "So they know from snow."

Quinn got out his cell phone and called his parents. "Hello, Mom."

"Hello, Quinn," said Ginny. "Are you still stuck on the Taconic?"

"Yes, we are," Quinn answered. "And we've decided that it's best to head home as soon as we're able to. The conditions are just too dicey to get to you."

Ginny sighed. "You're right. We'll all miss you and Ian, but safety always comes first."

Quinn said, "I also think everyone should stay overnight with you, until they have the roads cleared in the morning."

"Good idea," said Ginny. "Now hold on; I'm passing the phone around -- everybody wants to talk with both of you. Happy Thanksgiving! Love you."

By the time he and Ian had spoken with the whole family, ten more minutes had passed. Or ten less minutes for them to wait in the cold.

"I'm glad we asked Mrs. Chang to take care of Artoo and Sandy at her house today," Quinn said.

"Yeah," Ian sighed, "they get awfully lonely when we're gone for too long."

Quinn said, "That's one less thing for us to worry about."

Ian nodded. "And it's lucky we brought the pies; there will be plenty of food to keep us and the other drivers well-fed for hours, if we're out here that long."

"Yes, and remember the bottled-water packs we always carry in the trunk," said Quinn. "That reminds me -- I'd better buy some more for the THX, as well."

"Then we're all set," Ian said with satisfaction.

"We can have our own little Thanksgiving celebration," Quinn said, getting into the holiday spirit.

Ian grinned at his cheerier husband. "I even got your favorite at the bakery -- apple-crumb pie."

Quinn closed his eyes in anticipatory bliss, adrift in a daydream of cinnamon and nutmeg. "Ah, thank you, me boyo."

"You're welcome. Starting the celebration now sounds good to me, since the man I'm most thankful for happens to be right here by my side." Ian gave his hand a little squeeze.

"Funny how that worked out for both of us." Quinn squeezed back and gave a little snort.

"Speaking of which, I'm grateful that this is the year that we finally got marriage equality," Ian said softly.

Quinn nodded. "Yes, we're now equal citizens of our own country, mo fhear cheile."

They just sat together hand in hand, basking in the sheer joy of it, for one transcendent instant.

Ian added, "I'm also grateful that no one got hurt today."

"'Twas a blessing, my lad." Quinn kissed his husband's soft copper spikes.

Ian hummed his approval. "At least our unplanned 'rest stop' gives us a wee bit of privacy," he teased.

"And a kiss and cuddle would help to keep us warm," Quinn teased back. So saying, he put his arm around Ian, just as he had when he'd first come in from the snow. This time, he rubbed his laddie's shoulder through his winter coat.

Ian nestled into Quinn, used to the arm rest and stick shift separating them a bit by now, and delighted that his herven had such long arms. Just as he had earlier, he felt warmer when Quinn embraced him, even through layers of clothing. And now the blanket, not to mention the snuggling, was starting to pay off.

Grateful, and not for the first time, for his considerable height, Quinn used it to best advantage -- he leaned over for a kiss, getting into their private celebration. What made him happy most of all was being together on this day of thanks. Ian's lips on his felt like every good thing that had happened to him in the last twelve and a half years, distilled into one perfect Moment.

Ian kissed him back, counting on the frost coating the windows for privacy. He quickly forgot about any possible audience, though, absorbed as he was by his guid-man. Quinn's lips on his felt like every good thing that had happened to him in the last twelve and a half years, distilled into one perfect Moment.

"Happy Thanksgiving, ma gradh," Ian said.

"Happy Thanksgiving, laddie," Quinn answered.

Beep. Beepity. Beep.

It turned out that they had shared the kiss just in time, because Ian's keen Jedi hearing caught the signals of snow plows trundling up the grassy margins of the highway.

Quinn and Ian would soon be home free for the holidays.


End file.
